Not If I Can Help It
by Mrs. Singing Violin
Summary: Elegy post-ep. Mulder realizes what a jerk he's been, and makes up for it.


Title: Not if I Can Help It  
Category: X-Files VA, Mulder/Scully friendship  
Author: Singing Violin (Pearl on Gossamer)  
Rating: PG/K+  
Summary: Elegy post-ep. Mulder realizes what a jerk he's been, and makes up for it.  
Disclaimer: The X-Files characters and universe are not mine.

"I'm going home." Sotto voce, almost inaudible, tears threatening beneath the surface. As he stood frozen in the hallway, the words rang in his ears long after her footsteps fell away.

 _I've really been a jerk this time_ , he realized. He'd spoken out of anger...deep rage, but although his words were directed at her, the sentiment wasn't...or shouldn't have been. He was angry at the men who had done this to her, at the world for allowing it to happen, and most of all, at himself for not preventing it. But, not having a deserving target handy, he'd lashed out at the victim, and rather than fight back, she'd quietly walked away. That, most of all, alerted him to the fact that he'd crossed the line.

And that, perhaps, she was sicker than she cared to admit. Too tired to fight him, maybe. She sure as hell wasn't just admitting he was right...she _never_ did that...and plus, he wasn't. Even he knew that moments after the words escaped his lips.

Would she shut him out completely now? If so, he deserved it...even if she was "working against him and herself" by doing so.

"Stupid, stupid," he muttered to himself as he made his way down the hallway and out of the building.

He stopped short, seeing her car still parked out front. His heart jumped into his throat as he quickly ran towards it. Something was wrong, very wrong. As he approached, he peered through the window.

She sat in the driver's seat, staring forward, a look of pure shock on her face. He noticed she had not yet put the keys into the ignition, so on a hunch, he grabbed the handle. The door opened; she hadn't locked the car.

Slowly, she turned her head towards him, and he knelt down so he'd be at eye level with her. Her eyes were moist, and a solitary tear was running down her cheek.

He spoke first. "Scully, are you okay?" _Of course she's not okay, you idiot._ He quickly continued, "I mean, what's wrong?"

She bit her lip, clearly contemplating whether to talk to him.

"I'm sorry for what I said, Scully. I'm sorry. It was uncalled for, I..."

He didn't get to continue, because she finally spoke, interrupting him. "I just saw Harold, in the back seat."

 _It's really true_ , he read in her face and felt in his heart, _she's dying_.

 _Not if I can help it._

"Oh, Scully," he murmured, reaching out towards her and crushing her to his chest.

She pushed him away. "It doesn't matter; it's over." She looked down as she spoke, obviously avoiding his eye.

He took her hands in his. "I'm driving you home. Give me the keys."

"Your car...," she tried.

"I'll get it later," he insisted. "I'm not giving you a choice. I'm sorry, but..."

Now she looked at him, briefly, before looking away. "Yeah." With that, she rose out of the seat, walked around to the other side of the car, then silently got into the passenger's seat.

He'd never been more worried about her. If she couldn't even fight him, as she always had as long as he could remember, how could she fight this disease? Had she already given up? Was this the final straw?

 _Not if I can help it_.

She remained silent during the drive, and he furtively stole glances at her, but she gave no outward indication of her mental or physical state. She just stared forward or out the passenger's side window, as if she were attempting to ignore his existence.

He frowned in contemplation as he approached her building and parked her car.

When she didn't move immediately to get out, he exited first, ran around to the other side and opened her door, then extended a hand to help her out.

She looked at him momentarily, then looked away and deliberately moved past him, avoiding his offered hand. She did not acknowledge his presence as he followed her all the way to her apartment.

He was beyond worried, and determined not to let her out of his sight.

He half expected her to attempt to dismiss him after entering through the door, but she just left it open, as if she knew his intentions and hadn't the energy to instruct him otherwise.

 _Or maybe she wants me here?_ He didn't dare to hope.

He waited awkwardly in the doorway as she disappeared into the bathroom, then finally returned.

Now she approached him and looked up into his eyes, though he could not read her expression. She seemed to be waiting for him to speak.

He uttered the first words that came to mind. "You're not fine."

At that, her lip began to tremble, and she looked down at the floor. _Shit_ , he thought, _I shouldn't have been so blunt._

"No," she replied taking a deep breath, "I'm not. I'm dying."

So she'd come to that conclusion too.

Again, his heart leapt into his throat. His reply was strangled, croaking. "You told me you were going to fight this, Scully."

She looked back up at him. "I'm tired of fighting."

So there it was.

"Then let me fight for you, Scully," he replied desperately.

She shook her head, and he thought he heard her laugh a little. "You can't. This is my fight, and I'm not winning. I'm sorry."

Dark fear froze him from the inside out. He stammered as he spoke, "I...I thought you...you said the doctor said you were fine...did you...?" He couldn't continue, couldn't accuse her of lying to him twice in one night.

Surprisingly, she responded easily. "As fine as someone with cancer can be, Mulder. I'm okay for now, but I'm still dying. Nothing's changed. I'm not getting worse, at least not very fast, but I'm not getting better either. It's just a matter of time. And now, seeing what I've seen..." She didn't finish the thought. She didn't need to.

"Thank you for being honest with me, Scully," he told her gently as he reached out and cupped her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"Yeah," she replied tiredly. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to go to bed."

She didn't ask him to leave. "I'm staying the night," he told her. "I'll sleep on the couch, or whatever, but I don't think you should be alone."

She nodded. "I know." Whether she was agreeing that she shouldn't be alone, or just that he thought she shouldn't, it didn't matter...she was accepting his presence, if not with open arms, then at least with an open door. Slight relief flooded him, and he felt himself relaxing, if only a little.

He watched as she turned away and disappeared into her bedroom, then settled himself on the couch and turned on the TV with the volume on low...so that he wouldn't disturb her, and also so that he would hear if anything happened.

Still, he found himself getting up to check on her several times. Watching to see if she were still breathing. Letting out a sigh of relief when he observed her chest rising and falling under the covers.

The last time he checked, he cracked the door only to see her sitting up, staring at him. _What are you doing_? she silently accused.

"I, uh...I wanted a glass of water and wasn't sure where you kept your glasses," he tried lamely.

He desperately hoped she wouldn't offer to get up and get him the water herself.

"Not in the bedroom," she told him, then sighed. "In the cabinet by the fridge," she replied. _But you knew that already_.

"Thanks," he answered, and moved to leave. He paused, "Uh, do you want anything?"

"No, Mulder, I'm fine," she said blandly.

He nodded.

This was going to be more difficult than he thought.

He lingered in the doorway. "I really am sorry," he told her. "About what I said. I shouldn't have."

"You were right," she answered. "I was hiding things from you."

"Yes," he agreed, "but it's not fair for me to expect you to share everything immediately. I need to trust that you'll tell me when you're ready, or when it's relevant. I'm sorry that I didn't trust you."

She searched his eyes before speaking. "And I'm sorry that I didn't trust you enough to tell you right away. I'll try to be better about it."

With that he stepped forward and sat beside her on the corner of her bed. "No, Scully, you were scared, and I understand. I do. You couldn't tell me right away, and that's okay. You told me as soon as you could. I just...reacted badly."

With that, she smiled slightly at him. "Yeah, you did."

"Are we good?" he asked her pointedly.

"We're okay," she said.

He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. "Go back to sleep, Scully. I'll be just in the other room."

"You were checking on me," she finally accused aloud. "Checking to see if I were still alive."

His stricken look admitted as much.

"You know, Mulder, these days I wonder if one morning I just won't wake up. It makes it hard to sleep."

"I'm afraid to go to sleep for fear I'll wake up and you'll be gone," he admitted.

"You haven't slept at all," she concluded, glancing at the clock. It was after three in the morning.

"No," he told her. "I haven't."

"Stay in here with me," she ordered. "Maybe we'll both get some rest."

He looked around. "You mean on the chair?"

"No," she said. "Here." She patted the bed beside her.

"Are you sure?" he asked, searching her face for clues.

"Yes, I'm sure," she said. "Please, before the sun comes up and we have no choice but to be awake."

He smiled and slipped off his shoes. "Yes, Agent Scully."

With that, they both lay back, with her under the covers and him above them. He gathered her into his arms and kissed her cheek. Then he drifted off while reveling in the feel of her warm body moving gently with her breaths.

His eyes fluttered open as they were hit with the sunlight streaming in through the window, and she shifted against his arm. "Good morning, sleepyhead," he told her.

She blinked and smiled at him. _I'm alive_.

"Mulder, let me go. I have to pee. And after I get dressed, we are going to get your car."

He grinned and opened his arms, allowing her to escape. _She's alive_. _And she's okay...for now_.


End file.
